Chapter 37-Equal and Opposite Reaction

(Hermione's POV)

As soon as I returned home from school the first thing my parents did after feeding me a good meal was drive me downtown to see a psychiatrist who specialized in treating victims of sexual crimes. They told me what they were doing, as Dumbledore had notified them of the incident, and I had agreed to go. Nominally at least.

I sat staring out the window as my mother drove, saying nothing, not that I had said much since I left school anyway. They are trying to help any way they know how, and this is the only way they know. My mum said this doctor was a friend of theirs from school long ago, during their pre-med days. My father tried so hard to be supportive, but he was mostly silent and tight-lipped during the whole topic, and let my mum do the talking. I imagine, rather like Harry, I have not seen his full anger yet.

I was grateful that my mother had not tried to engage me in conversation during the ride, I didn't know what to say and she was letting me have my space.

She pulled into a parking lot near a stark white medical-looking facility, and I looked at her.

"Hopefully this will help, but don't feel pressured, you can be in there as long or as short a period of time as you want. Just give me a call and I'll come pick you up. I'll be hanging out nearby." She placed her mittened hand on my shoulder in re-assurance and gave me a small smile.

"Thanks." I squeaked out and opened the door, and walked into the facility.

I spent two and a half hours in there the first day. All Dr. Gresham did initially was piss me off by asking a million questions. I slammed the door on my way out and called my mother.

But I slept without any nightmares that night, for the first night since the incident.

So I decided to go back the next day and the next.

It was tricky trying to explain the whole incident to Dr. Gresham without revealing the magic involved. I resorted to saying Harry and Neville beat Boot up instead. Still the doctor was convinced I wasn't telling him the whole truth. No kidding.

He asked me to explain my relationship with Boot, Harry and Neville. So I did.

Being a psychiatrist I should not have been surprised when he said I had a crush on Harry.

So we talked about Harry, about the gift he gave me and how I was confused by it. I tried to explain its significance, and ended up saying in his family giving necklaces meant engagement proposals. Dr. Gresham was confused and asked where Harry was originally from. I said he was from some old family in Portugal that was distantly related to royalty. A blatant lie, but what else could I say? I only hope he doesn't know anything about Portugal.

We talked about stress-management, and he advised me to think about Harry whenever I was upset, saying "You need to focus on positive male influences in your life to counteract this horrible one." I half believed him.

All in all, I was making progress and by the time Christmas day dawned with its warming golden rays reflecting off of the new blanket of snow on our street I was actually feeling festive again.

My parents were visibly relieved at my improvement, though my father still had a distant look in his eye when he stared at me.

Ignoring this, my mother and I sat down with him to our typical Christmas morning breakfast: Piping hot Cranberry scones, sizzling bacon, mulled cider and my mother's famous 'Garden Fried Eggs' that she only made on Christmas morning despite my father and my incessant teasing throughout the year.

We had a pleasant conversation about my schoolwork and their patients and their quirks while discussing the plans for the day. Shortly after breakfast (which my father cleaned up so mum and I could get ready for mass), I was dressing into my fine black velvet dress with red roses embroidered around the neckline and golden swirls throughout the rest of the dress, I put my hair up into a fancy bun and as I went to apply my makeup (mother's insistence) I noticed that my skin wasn't red and chafed anymore.

I looked outside, the sun's warm rays reflecting off the top of the flagpole which flew our Union Jack, and I smiled. I'm feeling better Geoffrey.

So I finished with my face, put on a pair of those pesky nylons and classic patent-leather black heels. My mother walked in just as I was finishing up.

"Hermione, you look stunning darling." She cooed, "I wanted to give you a present early." She said handing me a small black box.

I opened it to reveal a cunningly crafted set of gold earrings set with rubies in the shape of roses. "Your father and I wanted to get something that described you to us. We figured that while you are as beautiful as a rose, you have the strength of Gryffindor, hence the gold and red. A beautiful red rose with terrible thorns to protect her from those who would harm her." Her eyes teared up, "I hope you like them."

"Thank you mum!" I exclaimed hugging her tightly. I put on the earrings just as Dad walked in.

"Are the two most beautiful women in the world ready to go?" he asked with a smile dressed in his clean crisp suit with dark green tie to match my mother's dress.

"Of course we are Harold." My mother replied linking her arm through his with her beautiful smile she reserved only for him. The smile of true love.

So we walked downstairs and put on our coats, and my mother and I laughed as we battled the ice to get into the car in our impossible shoes.

Mass passed unremarkably with the priest droning on in his comforting familiar tone, the candles winked, the Latin was sung, the poinsettias' beauty was reflected in the window glass, the benediction was said. We filed out with the rest of the church-goers to the bell choir ringing out Christmas tunes.

The biting air nearly choked me upon exiting, but I did not mind since it brought snow flurries with it that danced through our hair.

My family and I did our customary drive through the parks on the way back, admiring the natural beauty combined with the holiday décor to create the uniquely magical Christmas spirit.

We returned home for lunch and ate our traditional Christmas ham and then exchanged gifts. I could not have been happier, except for a dark feeling that followed me like a cloud since I woke up this morning. I attributed it to the incident of a few weeks before.

That night as the snow fell quietly I put on my warm flannel pajamas and carried my candle to the desk as I looked out the window on the innocent snow-covered world. (My family used only candles Christmas evening, an odd tradition since before I can remember.)

I wondered how Ron and Harry had passed their Christmases. Particularly Harry, since he had no family worth speaking of. They must have locked him up in Grimmauld Place all alone. What a sad Christmas.

I resolved to write him a letter and send it out tonight to assuage my conscience for forgetting about him on such an important holiday. I kept it short and sweet hoping that he had a good holiday and told him I was looking forward to seeing him soon, and did he have any dates in mind for our first meeting? I used Ron's charmed paper since I didn't have an owl around at the moment.

After I sent the letter off I put on his mother's necklace for some strange reason. I just wanted him to feel like I cared and someone had a connection with him today. I blew out my candle and went to sleep.

I awoke in a cold sweat much later, my alarm clock said 0323. I had an eerie tingling feeling crawling through my body, and reached for my wand under my pillow.

My paranoia is clearly getting the better of me. I rolled back my covers silently so as to not awaken my parents. I avoided the squeaky floorboard at the edge of my bed, that I had learned of after many years of sneaking out of bed to read after hours. I stalked quickly and quietly towards my window and peaked through a crack in the curtains.

My heart stopped.

Bill Weasley was lying in the snow, blood seeping out in a crimson flow. A man with pale blonde hair and black cape stood over him laughing. There were five others with him, one of them kicked Bill's corpse.

I jumped back from the window as if burned, clasping the necklace in reflex it was cool and wet to the touch.

My parents and I-we were going to die.